


Inversion

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [348]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:57:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8541268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: anon requested: What about switching up, Alan saving Virgil somehow?





	

 

Zero gravity was not Virgil’s element.

He twisted, trying to find some kind of traction, but the movement propeled him in unexpected ways, and Virgil winced as he bounced off a bulkhead.  

“Stop flailing, bro, it’s only making it worse.”

Virgil would glare at Alan if he could figure out how to turn around.  “Hey, you said it would be just like swimming, but drier.”

“Yeah,” John cut in over the comms.  “That was a lie.”

Virgil made a noise of frustration and tried to doggy paddle back towards the jump seat.  The movement only managed to make him bob in the middle of Three’s cabin.  He stopped, exhausted.  “I hate you all.”

Alan appeared in his field of view, grinning, floating easily.  “Come here, big guy.”

Normally, Alan couldn’t budge Virgil if he had a big lever, but in this place, high above earth, Alan twisted around his centre of gravity, grabbing Virgil’s shoulder even as his boot found purchase off the ceiling.  Together they floated down until Virgil could latch onto the back of the co-pilot’s seat.  “Why don’t you just sit here until we dock with Five,” Alan suggested, not laughing at Virgil at all, even if his eyes were dancing.

Virgil snapped himself into the harness with jerky, angry movements, and folded his arms.  “You better have the gravity ring turned on when we get there, John.”

John’s laugh was loud over the comms.

“There’s a reason Alan’s my favourite,” Virgil retorted, but that just made John laugh harder.

Alan patted him on the shoulder, passed Virgil a juice box, and pushed off to return checking to Three’s systems for docking.

“Favourite,” Virgil repeated, even if being strapped in for the ride reminded him of being five years old and grumpy on long trips.  He stabbed the juice box with the straw.

The liquid gushed out of the tiny hole and sprayed him in the face.  Virgil closed his eyes and quietly hated everything and everyone outside the atmosphere.


End file.
